“This is real now,” he murmured, voice rough from the drive and maybe from the weight of what this meant.
She nodded, blinking fast. “It’s not just a weekend.”
“Nope.”
“It’s not temporary.”
He shook his head. “Not even a little.”
She exhaled, relief and nerves tangled up in one long breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Dylan kissed her forehead gently, then pulled back and looked toward the trailer. “We’re really about to test your organizational skills, Presley.”
Ali laughed, swatting at his chest. “Please. You’ll be thanking me when you can actually find your favorite hoodie.”
“I won’t need it,” he said, brushing her hair back. “You’ll be here.”
Her throat tightened. “Yeah. I will.”
And with that, they turned toward the house—their house—ready to start the next chapter, one step, one box, and one shared closet at a time.
Epilogue
Paper Rings
Ali
It wasn’tofficiallytheir first night in the house, but the house wasofficiallyunpacked. Finally! You couldn’t get more official than that.
She didn’t rush.
Didn’t even speak.
Just let the hem of Dylan’s oversized Tritons tee fall to the floor and stood still in the glow of the bedside lamp—bare, flushed, already aching.
Her heart was thudding so hard it hurt, but Dylan? He just looked at her like a man undone. Still sitting at the foot of the bed in his black boxer briefs, one palm sliding slowly down his thigh like he was trying not to lose it.
“Jesus, Ali,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She stepped between his knees, cupped his jaw, and kissed him slowly—soft at first, then deeper. His hands skimmed up the backs of her thighs, over her ass, then up her spine, anchoring her to him. He sucked in a breath when her fingers dipped into his waistband, but when she went to straddle him, he shook his head.
“Uh-uh,” he whispered against her mouth, standing to switch their places. “Lay down, baby. Let me take care of you.”
“Dylan…”
“Ali.” He crawled between her legs, pushing her gently down into the pillows, spreading her open with quiet reverence. “You’re mine. Let me show you.”
She was already wet—he could see it. Feel it. But he still took his time, dragging his mouth over her stomach, her inner thighs, the curve of her hips like he needed to savor every inch of her.
And then his tongue found her clit.
Ali gasped, her back arching as her fingers shot to his hair. “Oh—my—gawd—”
He chuckled low, and the vibration made her moan louder.
“You always taste so fucking sweet,” he murmured, licking slow and deep, tongue curling just right. “I’ve missed this. Missed making you come apart.”
Her thighs started to tremble. “Dylan, I can’t—please—”
